Imaginos walked up to the desk in the hospital waiting room.
"May I help you?" the receptionist asked, sounding like she wasn't having the best day of her life and wished she was anywhere else.
"I would like to see Arianna White," Imaginos told her.
The receptionist checked. "There's nobody here by that name."
Imaginos realised that Arianna was probably still unconscious if they didn't have her name yet.
"The young woman who was brought in yesterday," he explained.
"The young woman is in protective custody," the receptionist sniffed. "I can't let you see her. For all I know you could be the bastard who attacked her."
Another receptionist, who was approaching the coffeemaker in the back, spotted Imaginos and recognised him from a newscast that had been filmed in Plutonia where he and Foreign Minister Desdinova, his wife, had been hosting a debutante party for their daughter who was also named Arianna.
"Janet," she hissed, "do you know who this man is?"
"I don't care if he's the President of the bloody United States," Janet replied.
"Actually," Imaginos smiled, "I was born there. But I'm the husband of Plutonia's Foreign Minister."
"And that means what to me?" Janet studied her fingernails.
"It means you call me 'sir' when you're mouthing off at me," Imaginos smirked.
"Listen, mister," Janet scoffed.
Imaginos sighed and turned to the other receptionist who seemed to be in a far better mood.
"You might want to get your friend a cup of coffee," he said, "I think she needs it."
"Employees only," the other receptionist told him. "And as of now, she's no longer employed at this hospital."
Janet looked at them both in disbelief, then stormed off.
"Now," the second receptionist said, pleasantly, "How may I help you, sir?"
"I was a friend of Miss White, the patient who was brought in after an attack yesterday." Imaginos explained. "I came to see how she's doing and apologise to her."
"Why do you need to apologise?"
"She and I knew each other several years ago," Imaginos explained. "Before I married Desdinova. She's been away for a white and I don't think she's aware of the wedding. She might still be in love with me and I think she got hurt because of that."
"And you never wrote to her to tell her that you were married," the receptionist guessed.
"I didn't have her address," Imaginos replied. That was true enough. And even if he'd had it, there wasn't a single postal service on Earth that delivered intergalactically.
"I'll get her doctor," the receptionist decided. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable in the waiting room in the meantime?"
"Thank you," Imaginos said as he made his way to the nearest row of chairs.